


Sharing Burdens in the Darkness

by Telaryn



Series: Second Chances [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angsty Schmoop, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Domestic, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e02 0-8-4, M/M, Schmoop, Sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 12:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the job, Phil Coulson is the definition of professional.  His personal life is another matter - now that he has somebody he can share his fears and failings with, he can take the risk of letting his guard down and showing his vulnerabilities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharing Burdens in the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Tag for Episode 1x02 - "O-8-4".

Everything hurt, inside and out, but for the first time in longer than he cared to think about Phil Coulson refused the attention of the SHIELD medics Director Fury sent to his office on the base. Nothing had happened to him that he couldn’t heal eventually; he just wanted to wrap up his paperwork, go home, and forget about everything for at least a little while.

_“For once I’m actually ahead of you.”_

_”Your renewed idealism, your collectibles, surrounding yourself with young, attractive agents…you’re having a midlife crisis.”_

_”It’s textbook.”_

The bitch of it was, the mission had gone exactly the way he wanted it to. He’d taken things as they came, used situations to his advantage, and returned with not only the 0-8-4, but a team that was finally starting to think in terms of acting together. Everybody was banged up and bruised, but he and Melinda had taken the worst of it.

Okay, that wasn’t entirely true – the _plane_ had taken the worst of it, but Coulson had to believe that even Director Fury, underneath all the swaggering about reckless behavior and cost overruns, understood that the damage had been incurred in the service of a greater good.

And yet, somewhere during his dressing down, Fury’s words had kicked off Camilla’s voice in Phil’s head; no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop it. After spending two extremely frustrating hours trying to push himself into the proper headspace to write his report he was finally forced to give up. One quick phone call – that if he’d been on his game he never would have made from his office phone – and he started for home silently hoping that tomorrow would somehow be better.

Getting off the base was no easy task even under the best of circumstances, but it was a perfect night to put the top down on Lola, enjoy the wind in his hair, and maybe if he was lucky find a little peace.

_”You’re such a sentimentalist.”_

_”You built a team so you could feel needed, relevant.”_

_We secured the objective,_ he thought, trying to envision the words as his side of an argument with the voice in his head. _Nobody died – do you even understand what a miracle that is? I didn’t lie to you, Camilla. They’re good – they have the potential to be the best – but Christ! They’re only a little better than unruly school children right now._

Reyes had given his team a common enemy, and he was perversely grateful to her for that. He knew now about his own unwitting participation in bringing the Avengers together to defeat Loki and fully respected the power that kind of thing could have over people. _Nobody dead, nobody confined to Medical…_ He recalled with a wry grin that there were few missions from when he was working with Barton and Romanoff where he would have been able to make that claim.

It was only once he turned into his driveway and saw the classic sports car parked to one side that the chaos in his head finally began to ease. Phil was a little embarrassed at how much he’d wanted to see Clint tonight, but Barton certainly hadn’t objected. _I guess we’re really doing this thing,_ he thought, parking Lola far enough away from Clint’s car to minimize damage.

Putting the car’s top up took him longer than it should have, but he was smiling by the time he was finished – looking forward to an evening of shared take-out, maybe a movie, and then…

Coulson was completely unprepared for the waves of delicious food-smells that washed over him as soon as he let himself inside. A tiny seed of guilt bloomed in his chest as he made his way to the kitchen at the back of the first floor. “I wasn’t expecting you to cook,” he said at last, by way of greeting.

Clint Barton looked up from the stove where several pots were giving off steam and even stronger scents. Coulson felt his stomach twist with hunger and remembered it had been far too long since he’d properly seen to his body’s needs. “I know,” Barton said easily. Phil saw a flicker of concern cross the archer’s expression, but it was quickly hidden away. “I could hear it in your voice.” He knew without asking that Clint was referring to more than their meal plans.

He realized with a start that he’d been staring when Barton gave a small jerk of his head. “Go upstairs and get comfortable,” he said in a tone that clearly conveyed Phil would have a fight on his hands if he argued. “Dinner’ll be ready by the time you are.”  
*******************  
Clint had to stop working for a moment as soon as Coulson was out of sight. He’d known it was bad when his former handler had first called to invite him over, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Phil sporting this much physical abuse. _Nigeria,_ his brain helpfully supplied as a sudden hiss of steam recalled him to the work at hand. _Kept that arms dealer from feeding you your balls on the point of his knife._

He made a mental note to have a private talk with Ward and May about what was really going on in the field. They still hadn’t been able to piece together the truth of what had happened to Coulson on the helicarrier and what Fury might have authorized to snatch him back from the jaws of death. Clint knew that until he had that information to hold onto he wasn’t going to be comfortable with the idea of Phil being in the field with only strangers to watch his back.

 _”May’s good.”_ Melinda May was one of the few people Natasha had formed a sort of friendship with during her time in SHIELD. The two women were at the top of their game, similar temperament, and neither suffered fools at all. Clint ordinarily would have trusted Nat’s assessment implicitly, but something had happened to Agent May to take her out of action – the kind of something nobody talked about. She’d been working in Administration when Coulson recruited her, and from everything Clint had been able to discover happy to be there.

 _And Ward’s still playing James Bond,_ he thought with a mental sigh. Despite the grief he occasionally took, Clint was self-aware enough to realize he was jealous of the handsome field agent and the time he would be getting to spend with Coulson.

“That smells amazing.”

Clint glanced over his shoulder and saw that Coulson had returned. He’d swapped his uncharacteristically rumpled and tieless suit for a plain white t-shirt and soft grey sweatpants Clint knew he was going to enjoy peeling him out of at some point later in the evening. “Sit down you sexy bad-ass, and let me take care of you.”

He’d been hoping for a smile, but Clint could tell immediately that he’d struck a nerve. Coulson did as he’d asked though; sitting heavily on one of the stools at the kitchen’s eat-in counter. Clint finished plating the food in a hurry and carried the dishes to him.

“So,” he said, taking up a position opposite Coulson, “want to talk about it?”

 _That_ got him a smile; Coulson ducked his head sheepishly and took his first bite of steak. Clint felt a small spark of satisfaction as the older man closed his eyes and groaned in obvious pleasure – clearly enjoying the taste. “I needed that,” he confirmed, looking up to meet Clint’s eyes. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Clint said. “Now share – how bad was it?”

He started in on his own dinner while waiting for Coulson to organize his thoughts. “I’m classifying the mission as a success,” he said at last. “We secured an 0-8-4, and the kids pulled together under an extreme situation to defeat hostile forces that had taken control of the bus.”

Clint indicated the left side of Phil’s face with a small nod of his head. “You get that ‘losing control of the bus’?”

A faint blush colored Coulson’s cheeks, but he nodded. “I let it happen, for what it’s worth,” he said. “Needed to give them an idea of the kind of situations they could find themselves in.”

“How did they respond?” Clint asked, biting back his displeasure at Coulson deliberately getting himself hurt for a bunch of green kids.

His former handler snorted softly. “Skye suggested using explosive decompression to override the doors between the lab and the rest of the plane, and Fitzsimmons…” His voice trailed off, but Clint was already grinning imagining what the ‘Science Babies’ as he and Nat had privately christened them, had done with the chance to cause a controlled explosion at 30,000 feet.

“Which means,” Coulson went on, “that I got to sit through the most humiliating ass-chewing from Director Fury since the last time I took you and Agent Romanoff to Monaco.”  
******************  
The more he shared, the more Coulson realized what a double-edged sword it was having somebody in his life he could lean on – even a little bit. Sharing details of the mission with somebody who could be trusted and who could appreciate the peculiarities of field work definitely made the whole mess feel like less of a burden he was trying to shoulder all by himself. The problem was that letting go of the inconsequential was inching them closer and closer to what was really bothering him.

 _So be it,_ he thought, setting down his knife and fork with a small sigh. If they were going forward with this relationship thing, it only further cemented Clint’s position in his life as somebody he should be able to trust absolutely with anything that didn’t exceed the archer’s security rating as a SHIELD consultant.

“I ran into _Commandante_ Camilla Reyes,” he said at last. Clint’s eyes widened in recognition at the name. “And,” Coulson went on before he could ask the inevitable question, “she was the one that thoroughly kicked my ass.”

“You let her do it though, right?” Clint asked, and Coulson smiled in spite of himself. It was definitely a relief being with somebody he didn’t have to explain everything to.

“Half and half,” he admitted finally. “I will cop to somewhat overestimating my ability to take a beating these days, but I’d like to think I gave as good as I got.”

Clint reached out and gently brushed his fingers along the welts that decorated the left side of his face. Phil drew a deep shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes shut and ducking his head as he struggled to keep himself together and under control. Clint’s hand slipped to the back of his neck, loosely cupping his spine. It was warm and real and steadying, and he was grateful for the contact.

“She got into my head, Clint.” The words were tight and angry as they slipped out. He hadn’t meant to say them that quickly – but now that the truth was out in the open Coulson knew he couldn’t back away from it. Focusing on his next breath, he inhaled slowly; counting beats off in his head until he was certain he could trust himself to look at Barton again.

“I know she was playing me,” he said almost defensively. “And I didn’t let it stop me from using the scenario to my advantage.” He sighed. “But I’m not the man I was, Clint. They certified me fit for duty, and I’m kicking ass and taking names…” He felt his skin warm as Clint grinned at his words. “It’s just…moments. Moments where I remember how close I came to losing everything, and wonder if I need to just forget about all of it and get out while I still can?”

The archer sobered. “I’m always going to vote for the choice that keeps you in the world – you know that, right?” he said after a long moment. “Preferably with me, although I know someday soon you’re going to wise up about letting me back into your life.” There was a teasing edge to his words that softened the sting. “I think some of what you’re feeling is normal,” Clint went on, “but as far as you not being able to do the job?” He snorted. “Please. If you weren’t fit for this duty Fury never would have authorized you, and even if he tried you wouldn’t have let him do it.”

The words made him feel better, but Coulson couldn’t stop himself. “You’re just saying that.”

Barton’s eyes narrowed and Phil could see an almost predatory light glowing in the grey-green depths. “I’m not here to feed your ego,” he said, leaning in and kissing him. Coulson made a small, eager sound low in his throat; pulling Barton in as close as he could and kissing him back.

“Can you stay?” he asked when they finally separated again. On one level he really hated how soft and vulnerable his voice sounded – on the other, he knew now that he really didn’t want to be alone tonight.

Smiling gently, Clint drew him back into a light embrace. “I can’t believe you thought you had to ask.”


End file.
